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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692825">Winchestmas</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drasna/pseuds/Drasna'>Drasna</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Some Sunny Day [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas Fluff, Christmas Music, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Holidays, Protective Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:47:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,484</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692825</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drasna/pseuds/Drasna</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A holiday one shot with Julie and Dean... and family. It's Christmas Eve in San Jose, and time for the Italian feast of the Seven Fishes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Some Sunny Day [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795759</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Oh, I've been thinking about having the whole Winchester makeshift family together again. And, then I started thinking about the holidays. I'm not one for shoving tinsel down everyone's throat as soon as September rolls around. But, this is not a usual year, so you do whatever cheers you up this year. For me, it's giving Dean this version of my happy ever after for him.</p>
<p>This features lyrics from "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" by Hugh Martin and Ralph Blane.</p>
<p>Here's what Dean might sound like singing it: https://youtu.be/384Bvuh2pt8</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Julie laughed at Sam’s wide eyes as he took in all of the contents in the back of the rented SUV. “I told you my mom doesn’t mess around when it comes to the Seven Fishes.” She spotted Jack from her vantage, helping Brigida out of the back seat. </p>
<p>Jack’s willing smile and sturdy grip, listening to Brigida grunt and groan down onto the ground, warmed the center of Julie’s chest. Poor ex-nephilim. His MIRL had fallen apart at the last minute right before Winter Break. No Texas meetup with his Internet girlfriend. Julie and Dean had already talked Cas into joining them, and Brigida, for a trip to the West coast for the holiday season since he’d be all alone in Delaware. When Jack’s plans got sidelined, it was a logical conclusion to have him tag along as well.</p>
<p>“How many people is she planning to feed?” Sam peeked in one of the shopping bags.</p>
<p>“Well, once we found that little Portuguese seafood market…”</p>
<p>“Whatsa matter?” All four foot eleven inches of Brigida came to a little above Sam’s elbow, sneaking up behind the giant of a man. Rusted copper highlights in her short permed hair shone in the late afternoon sun. “You don’t like seafood, Sam-ah?” Julie worried Brigida might fall backwards the way her mother had to crane her neck up to stare at Sam.</p>
<p>“No, Ma’am. I love seafood. It’s just, I don’t think we can eat all this.” Sam turned into a human coat rack while Julie slipped the handles of four grocery bags onto his forearms. He looked as sturdy as a tree. His long brown strands whipped this way and that in the breeze. He was tan and glowing in a tight white t-shirt and cargo pants. She tried not to pay too much attention to the way the cords tensed up his arms. <em> Dean’s brother. Eileen’s baby daddy. Behave, Julie. </em></p>
<p>Brigida waved a hand, her purse in the crook of an elbow. “It all looked so good. And, fresh. Couldn’t help myself. And, the owner was so nice. He has an Italian daughter-in-law…”</p>
<p>“Ma,” Julie smiled, “Why don’t we get this stuff inside so we can commandeer Eileen’s kitchen and get dinner started?”</p>
<p>She nodded then patted Sam on his rear. Julie hoped her mother did that because it was the closest part of Sam to her short frame. “You. Follow me. You’re going to be my assistant.”</p>
<p>Sam cleared his throat at the love pat. “I am?”</p>
<p>“Well, we can’t ask that sweet-ah lady of yours. She’s been busy with the baby all day.” Brigida then turned to her other side and pinched Jack’s cheek. “Grab that fryer we bought, Jackie.”</p>
<p>Jack smiled. “Will do.”</p>
<p>Sam spun his head over to Julie and whispered, “Fryer?”</p>
<p>Julie shrugged. “She wasn’t sure you had one. Figured it would be an early Christmas present.” She placed a gallon of vegetable oil into Sam’s open hand. “Surprise. We bring tidings and bad cholesterol.” </p>
<p>“Sam-ah.” Brigida was already halfway to the front door. She motioned with her hands.</p>
<p>“Quite the mom you got there, Jules.”</p>
<p>“I warned ya.” She looked around the driveway, expecting more hands to help. “Where’s Dean and Cas?”</p>
<p>“They were watching some football. Want me to get them?”</p>
<p>She shook her head. “It’s fine. Jack and I’ve got it.” Brigida called to poor Sam again and he dashed up the walk. Bags rocked like Christmas bells. </p>
<p>Jack leaned into the trunk and pulled out the boxed appliance, bear hugging it. “That was fun, Julie. Your mom sure knows alot about food prices and bargains. Cas and I never shop that way.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Growing up, we were always reminded of how good we had it here, in America. Mom never had all these choices and her family had it tough in Italy.” The last two weighted bags slung over her shoulders, Julie tapped the automatic hatch to close. “How are you doing?”</p>
<p>Jack smiled. “Good.”</p>
<p>“I get it, Jack, if you aren’t feeling up for all this holiday cheer. I’d be upset if something I’d been looking forward to got canceled.”</p>
<p>“If it’s meant to happen, we’ll get another opportunity. I can’t think of a better way to spend my break if I couldn’t meet Brandi in person.” They strolled side by side. “Haven’t seen Sam in forever. And, I’ve never seen him so happy. With Eileen and Patrick Dean. All those holidays we had that week, with Mrs. Butters… that was all just the shine and sparkle… none of what really mattered.” He nodded, more to himself, punctuating the thought. “Sam and Cas… and Dean… they all taught me how important family is. Now, we all get to celebrate together.”</p>
<p>Julie nudged his elbow. “Keep sounding so sweet, my mom is going to pinch those cheeks until they’re bruised.”</p>
<p>His face turned pink at the compliment.</p>
<p>“Jules!” Dean grumbled, making his way out of the house towards them. “Why didn’t you have Sam get me?” His hands relieved her shoulders of the bags as he dipped down for a quick peck.</p>
<p>“Didn’t want to tear you away from the oh so important game.”</p>
<p>“Did Brigida leave food for anyone else? Not that I’m complaining.” His grin stretched ear to ear. “This is gonna be awesome.”</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>Cas held the salted cod up to his nose and took a deep whiff. “This one smells briny. And, very fishy.”</p>
<p>Brigida cleaned the squid over the sink in the island with efficiency and speed. Guts dropped into her scrap bowl. The shiny, milky exterior of the cephalopods were rinsed and laid out on a cutting board. “That means it’s good Baccala.”</p>
<p>“Bacca-what now?” Dean sat on one of the stools, watching the activity with raptured fascination.</p>
<p>Julie shook her head, draining the canned clams over a bowl to retain the juices. Her man was completely unaware of how damn attractive he made sipping a beer and licking his lips at food preparation.</p>
<p>Brigida slid the cutting board over to Cas while staring at Dean. “BA-CA-LA. It’s cured and dried. Stiff as a board.” Her knuckles knocked on the woodblock counter. She pushed her fingers into the soft flesh of the cod Cas still held in his hand. “This is after it’s been soaked for two or three days. Jimmy, the fish market owner, he told me he had soaked this ‘imself.”</p>
<p>“Thank goodness for Jimmy.” Dean chuckled.</p>
<p>“What are we going to do with the Baccala?” Cas asked.</p>
<p>“We are gonna fry it. Then put it in that tomato sauce cooking on the stove.” She placed the cod back in a glass baking dish. “But, right now, Cas-ah, can you finish cutting these Calamari?”</p>
<p>“Of course.” Cas gave Brigida a lopsided grin. He sliced through the squid, making uniform sized ringlets with the large chef’s knife.</p>
<p>Brigida nodded. “You’re a natural.”</p>
<p>“Cooking is one of my favorite human activities.”</p>
<p>Julie side-eyed her mom’s reaction. Brigida had been given the briefing over her dinner table by Dean a few weeks back. After a Sunday lunch, during coffee and cake. She’d been told about hunting. Ghosts. Monsters. And, then, the big ones that Julie had been the most concerned about. Demons and Angels and Chuck being a dick. And, what Cas and Jack had been. And, finally, the demon deal Steve had made that had put Julie under a ten year spell of devotion, dependence, dominance, and deception.</p>
<p>Brigida ended up adding a lot of Anisette to her coffee that afternoon. She’d made the sign of the cross, eyes wide, numerous times. Not wanting to believe at first and mumbling prayers. Clutching the Madonna pendant on her gold chain. Dean did his best to ease Brigida’s concerns. That as long as he had anything to do about it, nothing bad was going to ever happen to her daughter. Not ever again. Not on his watch.</p>
<p>Dean’s gaze darted to Julie. He held the beer bottle in mid-air, frozen and waiting.</p>
<p>“What do you like to cook, Cas-ah?” Brigida laid out some bowls.</p>
<p>“I make a decent tuna casserole. Baked chicken. Chili.”</p>
<p>Brigida nodded. “Hm. I’d like to try your chili sometime.” She scooped flour into one of the bowls. “When you're done with that, we’ll bread these and get everything ready to fry.”</p>
<p>Cas smiled. He looked adorable in his “Kiss the Cook” apron.</p>
<p>“Where’d the big one go?” Brigida peered over her left shoulder.</p>
<p>Dean laughed.</p>
<p>“Ma.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“He has a name.”</p>
<p>“I know he has a name. But he’s the big one, no?” She waved a hand at Julie.</p>
<p>“Right here, Brigida.” Sam appeared with a stack of plates, Eileen by his side carrying bowls. “Had to get the table ready.”</p>
<p>“You? Why are you helping him?” Brigida’s usual hyper concern for Julie had been displaced toward Eileen as soon as she’d stepped inside the house and met the new mother. Julie couldn’t help but enjoy the break.</p>
<p>“Sam isn’t the best place setter.” Eileen shrugged.</p>
<p>“Where’s Jackie?”</p>
<p>“He’s outside talking to his girlfriend.” Cas reported.</p>
<p>“These damn phones.” Brigida stared at the baby monitor screen next to Dean. “How is he?”</p>
<p>“I’ll check.” Eileen put the bowls on top of Sam’s precarious pile.</p>
<p>“Let me, Eileen.” Dean chimed in, rising off the stool.</p>
<p>Eileen smiled. “Thanks.”</p>
<p>He winked and disappeared down the hall.</p>
<p>Ten minutes later, Sam had gotten the fryer ready for his job of deep frying smelts and then the calamari. Brigida reasoned that he was so tall he had the least chance of having any hot oil spit in his face. </p>
<p>Julie stirred the white wine and shallots for the mussels still soaking. Two boxes of pasta had been dumped in the boiling water for the spaghetti and clams. Scallops were about to get pan seared by Brigida and the baccala was simmering away in the sauce. The cocktail shrimp was chilling in the fridge. A symphony of delicious aromas circled the kitchen.</p>
<p>Julie skirted and dodged behind and past all the cooks, including Cas and Jack now. “That’s it, Ma. I know when I’m in the way. All you, guys.” She ended up beside Eileen and Sam, teaming up on the fryer duty. “Want me to go see what Dean’s up to?”</p>
<p>They both nodded in unison.</p>
<p>Julie patted Eileen’s shoulder and giggled. Her gaze spotted Dean on the monitor as she passed the island. He was wandering around the nursery with Patrick Dean. She reasoned he had things under control. But, she needed the break from all the activity, too.</p>
<p>Light spilled into the hall from the open doorway to Patrick Dean’s nursery. Julie halted at the shadow that crept across the wood floor and Dean’s voice.</p>
<p>“That was quite the production, little man. Didn’t think that much poop was possible from ya. And, the color. I gotta check with your Dad if that’s normal.”</p>
<p>Julie bit back a laugh and leaned against the hall wall to listen in some more.</p>
<p>“Glad to see the parents have got this room warded proper. That sigil mural is pretty impressive. But, I wouldn’t expect anything less from Sammy.” Dean’s voice was softer, quieter than usual. Patrick Dean cooed and squeaked. </p>
<p>Julie had loved seeing Uncle Dean with his little nephew. As soon as they’d arrived at Sam and Eileen’s yesterday, after the crew had settled their items into their respective rooms at the hotel, Dean had snatched up the newborn and held him for a good half hour. He’d carried him around the entire house as he caught up with Sam.</p>
<p>“Your Aunt Julie even drew a little anti-possession symbol on the inside of a beanie you're getting. Pretend to be surprised.”</p>
<p>Hearing him call her Aunt Julie made her heart stop for a second.</p>
<p>“I know your Dad’s gonna want you to have as normal a life as you can, even with all we know about what’s out there. But, he’s gonna make sure you’re prepared. Know how to defend yourself from all those bad things. Just in case there’s a time he won’t be there. </p>
<p>“But, I know, it won’t be like it was for us growing up. He’s gonna make sure you get the chance to do whatever the hell you want to do. Nothing’s gonna be put on you until you’re ready. You’ll get to just be. </p>
<p>“Fair warning, though, my brother can have a hard time pulling that stick out of his ass.” Dean released a soft chuckle. “But, don’t you worry. I’ll be there to show you all the fun stuff. And, bail you out when you get in trouble. Your Uncle Dean will always be there for you.”</p>
<p>Julie covered her mouth, trying to muffle the soft hitch of a cry that had escaped hearing Dean’s confession. She decided it best to not disturb him and make her way back to the kitchen. Her feet were about to move when Dean started up again.</p>
<p>“We gotta come up with a new name for this holiday, kid. What do you think of Winchestmas? I think that has a nice ring to it.”</p>
<p>Patrick Dean responded with some gurgling.</p>
<p>“Yeah. There are some good Christmas songs, though. You wanna hear one?”</p>
<p>There was now no way Julie was going to leave. Fact was, when Dean wasn’t trying so hard, he had a beautiful singing voice. He’d sung to her often. Cooking together in the kitchen, taking a Sunday drive to nowhere, listening to music in bed on a Saturday morning.</p>
<p>The first refrains of the song poured out with ease from that smooth, deep voice of his.</p>
<p>“Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light.” He managed to add the perfect twang and stretched out some words over the notes of the song. With no accompaniment. Just that velvet and bourbon wave that made her heart skip.</p>
<p>“...From now on our troubles will be miles away.”</p>
<p>Julie dared a peek into the nursery. A lamp on the dresser lit Dean’s silhouette in a warm glow. His back was to the door. He had a slight sway to those bow legs. Broad shoulders twisting a fraction side to side. A bundle of blanket falling over a forearm.</p>
<p>“Here we are as in olden day’s, happy golden days of yore. Loving friends who are dear to us, gather near to us once more.”</p>
<p>She retreated a bit, back into the shadows as he turned. She spotted the crown of Patrick Dean’s head, the rest of him swaddled in fabric, so safe and secure in those strong arms. Dean’s profile, a soft smile gracing that beautiful face as he continued singing to his nephew.</p>
<p>“Through the years we all will be together if the fates allow. Hang a shining star upon the highest bough.”</p>
<p>Dean was working some kind of magic on Patrick Dean, perhaps lulling him to sleep. And, Julie had never loved her man more.</p>
<p>“And have yourself a merry little Christmas, have yourself a merry little Christmas, have yourself a merry little Christmas now.”</p>
<p>Dean spun around to catch Julie in the doorway. “You gotta do a better job of sneaking up on me, sweetheart.” He whispered.</p>
<p>Julie melted at his smile and shuffled into the room. “Sorry.” She whispered back, leaning in to see that Dean had in fact sung his nephew into slumber.</p>
<p>“We ready to eat?” Dean mumbled.</p>
<p>She nodded. “Pretty soon.” Her hand reached up to stroke Dean’s cheek. “You’re already the best uncle.”</p>
<p>He grinned. “Thanks, Jules. This little guy kind of makes me want to move all of us to a compound somewhere, keep everyone under lock and key, safe and sound. Wish the bunker was still an option. Hold on, let me get him in the crib.” Dean crept toward the rails and deposited Patrick Dean onto the mattress. His figure came back to Julie, wrapping her up in a bear hug and kissing her forehead. “Been thinking…”</p>
<p>Her fingers dug into the muscles of his back at the words. Was he going to start talking babies?</p>
<p>“Maybe I should hang up my hunting hat.”</p>
<p>Her fingers released. She leaned back and up to stare at him. “Could you do that?”</p>
<p>Dean shrugged. “I’ve never really tried. But, Sammy, he’s still in it but not doing it, you know? I mean, would still need to practice, train, keep myself sharp. Maybe do some of that mentoring stuff he does. And, there’s still a lot I need to teach you.”</p>
<p>Julie groaned. Dean laughed. They both froze at Patrick Dean fussing in the crib. It took a few seconds for him to quiet down again. Dean twirled her in his embrace, latching onto her side as they walked out of the room.</p>
<p>He continued when it was safe to speak again, leaning Julie back into the wall. His fingers traced down her neck. His eyes ignited her with his gaze, even in the shadows. “Maybe it’s time. I’ve been trying to figure out my story after Chuck. But, I’m getting older. The Winchester legend is just that. Built on God’s interference, getting us to the next chapter.” He kissed her. “I have a lot of people that are going to need me to be a lot more careful from here on out.”</p>
<p>Julie smiled. “Gonna let someone else save the world, Dean Winchester?”</p>
<p>He smiled back. “Maybe, sweetheart.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>More fluffy holiday stuffy. Hope you enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dean paced the hotel room floor. It was fast approaching midnight on Christmas Eve in San Jose. Brigida, Cas, and Jack, were hopefully nestled all snug in their respective beds in respective rooms on the same floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard the shower turn on full blast. “Shit!” Julie screeched out from behind the closed bathroom door. He held back a chuckle, guessing the water had been colder than anticipated. If Sam hadn’t called a couple minutes ago, Dean would have already scratched the itch to join her, even after his own quick shower. Get her all clean and dirty at the same time. It would take his mind off what he’d been debating doing that night. Doing her was always a pleasant distraction from nagging thoughts and indecision.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But, “Perfect Timing” Sam had sidelined all that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seriously, Sammy. Get that shit tested.” Dean tumbled onto the still made king sized bed. Ran fingers through his freshly washed hair. Stretched his pajama clad legs and sighed. “Patrick Dean’s poo should not be that color.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s normal, Dean. Relax.” Sam huffed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, if everything’s fine, why’re you calling so late? We cleaned up, got ourselves on our merry little way so you and Eileen could get some shut eye. Before we bother you bright and early again in the morning and drop off Cas and Jack for more Christmas tidings. I thought we’d been making progress on this codependency stuff the past couple years.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you talk?” Sam’s voice wavered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean felt his entire face twist up in confusion. “Isn’t that what I’m doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Julie around?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s in the shower.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sitting down?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Christ, Sam.” Dean sat straight up. Julie’s out of tune voice sang a Christmas carol in the shower. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I showed Julie some of the stuff in the witchcraft pantry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, that’s where you two disappeared to after dessert.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you mentioned she’d been learning some of the Latin incantations. When I talked to her about spells and potions, she seemed interested in taking a look.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. So, what happened? Did she make a move on you?” Dean half-joked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wish.” Sam mumbled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Say that again?” Dean bristled. Julie sometimes stared at his little brother a bit longer than he appreciated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Sam rushed out, “not what I meant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Say what you mean.” Dean grumbled now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She was, I don’t know how to describe it… enthralled, Dean. With all of it. Like drawn in, hypnotised almost.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So? She geeks out on that kind of stuff like you do. Potterheads.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d have thought that, too, but… she was asking about some simple spells, looking through one of Rowena’s journals. I threw out the first one I could think of, the breaking spell. Recited the word you’d use to focus on a certain item. So, she tried for shits and giggles. She did this dramatic hand gesture above her head, laughing, and said the word, ‘Rumpatur’, right as you were calling for help in the kitchen. She handed me back the book and ran off to clean up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fascinating, Sam.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dean… when I looked up at where she’d been pointing… there was a huge crack in the drywall. It was split, a good half inch opening. And before you ask, it wasn’t along any seam.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean shook his head. “Falling down on your maintenance duties…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It wasn’t there before, Dean. She did that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not possible. Even if she were learning about this stuff - which she most definitely isn’t - it takes years for someone to get that much juice. Plus, you have to practice casting regularly...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or be a natural born.” Sam cut in with the fact.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean sat, stunned into silence. The water turned off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did some research on European folk-magic… you said Julie’s parents are both from Italy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Dean’s voice sounded far away even to himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not like the bloodline has been thinned out by a whole bunch of American interference. It’s possible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you thinking then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I need to do some serious digging into the Cuore family. Maybe we should run some covert tests. Find out for sure. Now that she’s shown interest and might actually look into this stuff on her own…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean cut him off. “Maybe it’s you that’s trying to find something that’s not there this time, Sam. Maybe it was just an earthquake that cracked your ceiling.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry to tell you, Dean, but your lady might be a…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t. Say. It.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Say what?” Julie’s question spun Dean’s attention to the now open bathroom door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean floundered, his mouth open at the sight of a damp Julie, hair in a turban, the rest of her bulging out of a tiny towel. He grinned, not wanting to focus on the probability Sam was proposing. Or what he’d been trying to get the nerve to propose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you hide the rest of the bath towels or just use them all?” She whispered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged and pursed his lips. Sam called his name.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Julie shook her head, careful not to lose the towel on top of her head and clutching the other tight to her chest. “How old are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He muted his cell. “Old enough to not wait around for Santa to get what I want for Christmas. Get that sweet ass over here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gave him a side eye and walked to the closet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dean?” Sam called his name again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed at the vindication on Julie’s face when she pulled out a fresh bath towel. She ducked back into the bathroom. His end of the call was unmuted. “Yeah. It’s late, Sammy. We’ll see you in a few hours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Alright. Dean, man...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No worries, little brother. We’ll figure it out like we always do.” Dean hung up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nope. He was not going to entertain the idea that the woman he loved might be a natural born witch. At least, not tonight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Julie!” He called. “Don’t punish me for wanting a little fun. Come on out, baby.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She emerged in a much more sensible coverup to Dean’s disappointment. Fingers bunched a towel along the ends of her long hair. “I checked in with the North Pole. You’re definitely on the naughty list.” She shivered. “Could we not have the air conditioning on the icebox setting?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He beckoned her with wiggling fingers. “I’ll warm you up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hips popped a slinky stroll that got many parts of Dean at full attention. She wandered over to the other side of the bed and pulled down the sheets. “What didn’t you want Sam saying?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t remember.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His out and out lie did not sit well by the frown on her face. “Fine. We should get some sleep.” Julie slinked under the covers. “Between morning here and then the drive to San Francisco, it’s going to be a busy day. Are you sure we should leave Cas and Jack with Sam and Eileen?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure. They’ll enjoy themselves more there.” He caught Julie’s questioning look and stammered. “Not-not that Joe and Patty aren’t great.” Dean was digging a deeper and deeper hole for himself. This was not how he wanted the night to end up. He’d already messed up and squandered other opportunities.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed and snuggled into the pillow. His heart lightened at the sound. “I like watching you squirm. I know the Cuore Crew is high maintenance.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, babe. You get to see Ma and Patty do the passive aggressive thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t be family without some discomfort. And, Cas and Jack would…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Create more questions that we aren’t ready to answer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded. “Brigida gonna be able to keep all that to herself?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Julie shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.” She tossed the sheets over her head. “Screw it. Sleep is for the weak.” Dean chuckled at her declaration while stretched out on top of the layers. The tug of the sheets rocked him like a baby. The way her body contorted, dipped and rolled, imbued the comforter with a lifeforce all its own. An arm popped out and dangled the towel off the edge of the bed. “Come get your Christmas present.” Her muffled voice teased.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s my girl.” Before the towel hit the floor, Dean had done some masterful acrobatics to burrow under the covers. His gaze took in the blurred curves of her naked frame in the filtered light and shadows. A chorus of giggles swam around them. He caged her in, hovered above. Relished the cool skin, warming up with each passing second under him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gasped for air and tugged the sheet from off his head. His mouth covered hers. They exchanged breath, soft and slow. He loved how her plump lips slipped about the curves and corners of his own. They fit. Everywhere. Every way he could think up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he broke the kiss to stare, he realized her big brown eyes had watered up. “What is it, sweetheart?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You all looked so happy tonight. All of you, together. All that you sacrificed. The entire world owes you their lives and unending gratitude. And, no one knows.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No one needs to know.” He countered. Her fingers held onto the caps of his shoulders. The swell of her breasts pressed into his bare chest. He groaned at the feel of her nipples and tossed her a grin. “You could show me the world’s unending gratitude.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded and replied in a serious tone without an ounce of sarcasm. “It might take me a lifetime, but I’ll make that a top priority.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That tug at his heart again. He’d felt it so many times. Times when he realized her love was true, yielding, forgiving, layered and unapologetic in how deep it went. And it was all for him. Dean kissed her. But he also felt something else. “Before we cross things off that long list of mine, you need to get some other things off this beautiful chest of yours, huh?” He twisted and nuzzled and flashed that cheesy grin. The one that normally made her smile. He arched his eyebrows for added effect. Still no smile. He leaned back. “What else is that busy mind of yours thinking about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seeing you with Patrick Dean…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His body tensed at the unease on her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You tried family life before. You would make a great dad, Dean. We haven’t really talked about it…” She pursed her lips and shook her head before she continued. “And, maybe it’s me overthinking…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kids?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eyes widened. She nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s because you never brought it up.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her forehead leaned into his neck, expression hidden from him now. But, he felt the hitching in her chest. He fell into her, tipped his weight to the side enough so as not to suffocate. Wrapped an arm around her back, clutched her even closer. He waited. She whispered, “Would you hate me if I didn’t want any?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, sweetheart.” His voice, rising from his throat, rumbled against the cheek rubbing into his neck now. “You should know there isn’t a cell in my body that could hate you. Besides, all you’ve gone through, with he who shall not be named, why would I expect you to want any? At least, not right away, not now anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want kids?” She still wouldn’t look him in the eye.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t think about it for a long time.” The words flowed easier without those brown eyes studying him. He focused on her safe in his arms. Her breath against the base of his neck. Her heart beat. “Wasn’t in the cards with the life, not something I wanted to raise any up in. Then, with Lisa and Ben… I don’t know, felt like I might be able to right all the wrongs I grew up with.” His fingers slid along her side. “But, one of my own? One with you?” Her fingers dug into his back at that last question. His lips pressed into her forehead for a peck, then whispered, “Would you hate me if I said I’ve thought about it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dean…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He recognized the hesitation, the fear of the unknown in the way she dragged out his name. “Hey, there’s time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She scoffed, mumbled into his chest. “Um, hello, just turned 41 over here. Not exactly a ton of time. May have missed the window.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then, we make the best with what we got. And we stop waiting for things to happen to us. We make ‘em happen.” He grunted, pulled away to flop onto his back. Smiled when she followed his lead, snuggled into his side. Her lips caressed his cheek. “Told you I wasn’t waiting for Santa.” He reached into the night stand, tilting away slightly. Chuckled as her body still followed, not leaving any space between them. “I know what I want.” He looked over at the hotel alarm clock and smiled. “And, it’s officially Christmas.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’m unwrapped and ready to go.” She purred and slid on top. Sat up and straddled him. The sheet falling away.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took in all of her above him. His fingers trailed over the tattoo under the curve of her left breast. She shivered in the cool air. She was no longer hesitant. There was no more uncertainty. No more tears. She was naked and beautiful. And all his. And he knew there wouldn’t be a better time than right then. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her fingers toyed with the waistband of his pajamas. “You’re next.” She snapped the band and curled those lips up into a sexy smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He raised a finger. “One more thing. Close your eyes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her nose crinkled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Close ‘em.” He arched one brow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She huffed and did what he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The small black velvet box he’d snuck out of the night stand drawer ended up atop his own anti-possession tattoo, above his heart. He did a quiet inhale, then breathed out and whispered, “Open ‘em.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watched as her eyes took a few seconds to notice the box. Her body froze. “What’s that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your Christmas gift. Open it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She frowned. “Dean.” She picked up the box and rocked back on his thighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rose to sitting, her hands clutching the gift between their chests, his fingers clasping around her waist. He didn’t want to miss a second of her reaction. “No Deaning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed. The lid creaked open. Her mouth parted. A little inhale of breath. Her gaze darted up to meet his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was told that’s an eternity band. When I mentioned to the jeweler you were a December baby, she thought you might like Blue Topaz. Apparently that’s your birthstone.” Dean shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled. “I love it. Thank you, Dean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good.” Dean pulled the ring out, chucked the box to the floor, and ran his fingers over Julie’s left hand. “I asked if that might look nice alongside a wedding ring.” Another shrug. “She seemed to think so.” That tug at his heart again at the surprise on her face. He slipped the white gold band with gemstones past the first knuckle of her ring finger. “Not today. Not unless you want, sweetheart.” Rested it atop the second knuckle. “But, if you do want to, we can drive to Vegas tonight and get hitched. Because whenever you’re ready, I want to spend eternity with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Julie smiled, helping Dean with a glide of her hand into his. The engagement ring slid home, rested where it belonged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merry Christmas.” Dean smiled back. “Marry me, Jules.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t a question. It was a given.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We're probably not done with the holidays yet. I hope you enjoyed.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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